The Sorting Hat Is Never Wrong
by NottDeadYet
Summary: Gryffindor is surprisingly hard to live up to. Who wants to be brave all the time? But the Sorting Hat is never wrong. A three-shot of three characters and their own moments of pure, maybe unnoticed, bravery.
1. 1 Neville

**1\. Neville Longbottom**

Neville's palms were constantly a warm, sticky mess of sweat. He had bouts of trembling all day until after fifth period - even in Herbology, his favorite class, Sprout told him he would work so much better with his plants if he wasn't so jumpy.

Yesterday had been terrible. Neville had slunk into Potions like he did every week for five days straight, his palms dripping and neck hot.

" _Mr. Longbottom."_

The drawl startled Neville so bad he leapt three feet in the air. It wouldn't have been this bad minutes ago, but the anticipation of this daily shock had built up.

It had been getting periodically worse; he'd thought first year would be the worst of it, and then in second year Snape had been intent on Harry, but this year Snape had only grew more vicious each passing day.

"What is this, Longbottom?" With a white, nearly translucent hand, Snape reached over his shoulder - an action that nearly made Neville fall out of his seat - and plucked a rough, hairy root from the table.

Neville swallowed. His throat felt like the dry chalk still writing instructions on the board. He saw Hermione pause sympathetically at the ingredients cabinet (he knew he should have gotten the ingredients instead of sit and let her make two rounds, but the last time he'd done that a vial had been dropped), and Harry glaring in undisguised empathy two tables to the left. Next to him, Ron was clearly whispering at him to not get involved. Neville silently agreed - Harry would only make it worse, no matter how well-intentioned the Boy-Who-Lived was.

" _Well?_ "

"M...m..." Neville, throat constricted. He swallowed again, feeling as if he hadn't drank water for decades, and tried to focus his eyesight on the root. He _knew_ what it was...if only he could speak…

 _What a Gryffindor you are,_ Neville thought bitterly.

"How riveting," Snape sneered, his mouth twisting. "Longbottom knows his letters. Perhaps in a year or so you'll be able to string them into a word or two - "

"Mandrake root," blurted Neville, and he could barely hear himself through his own heartbeat thrumming frantically in his chest. "It's Mandrake root." He regretted it in an instant, because in two seconds flat Snape had spun himself around and slammed both hands down on the desk, intent on berating him for the interruption.

Neville flinched wildly, unable to look at the black beetle eyes that had been bearing down on him since first year, and his knees collided with the underside of the desk.

The cauldron bounced off its legs, landing back on the table with an unsteady smack. With the base already pooling out onto the table, it teetered against the edge. Neville lunged, missed, hands slapping the other end of the table uselessly as the cauldron slammed against the floor beneath him. The rest of the base, which for the first time in a week wasn't water and was, instead, a thick sloshy substance Neville was never able to remember, spilled out.

And then, if things couldn't possibly get worse, the mandrake root as well as the small vial of powdered fairy wings rolled over the edge of the table. The smash of glass against the floor was not pretty.

The deadly silence that followed was overwhelming. Malfoy sniggered to the right, but the rest of the Slytherins watched with bated breath. Neville forced himself to look up at Snape, who was so furious his entire body shook, and immediately dropped to his knees, scrambling to pick up the cauldron.

He nearly threw up at the smell - the excess fairy dust had turned the potion into a sludgy, chunky substance not unlike spoilt milk (both in smell and texture). Small specks had splattered onto Snape's black shoes.

The professor was still silent. Neville hated a silent Snape - it was the calm before the storm, the moment Snape took to gather his verbal assault before firing.

Hermione, who had rushed back the moment the cauldron had tipped, dropped to her knees next to him. Neville felt a rush of gratitude, and he swept the broken crystals of glass into his palm.

"Stand up, Granger!" roared Snape, and Hermione hesitated only a few seconds before rising reluctantly. "This is Longbottom's mess to clean up."

Neville bit his lip, hard. Snape's sudden yell had startled him, and he forced himself to pluck the shards of glass from his right hand. Blood drops had already begun forming in little pricks, but he didn't dare stop. He swept the rest of the glass into his hand and poured them into a pile on the table.

Still, Snape was silent.

Neville grasped the side of the cauldron with one shaky breath, fingers near convulsion, and hesitated before reaching with his bloody right hand.

A separate hand stopped him, lifting the other side of the cauldron. It was Harry - he regarded Snape with a defiant, green eyed gaze that Snape reciprocated with a hearty glare. Neville felt his knees quake and he quickly ducked under the table to retrieve the mandrake roots.

"Back to your _seat_ , Mister Potter." Snape said softly.

Harry ignored his furious teacher, and to Neville's amazement he reached under the table to pluck a missed shard of glass from the ground. Delicately, he allowed it to drop onto the pile of glass, and it landed with a soft _plink_. Then, in a show of agonizing slowness, he went back to his table. Ron's face threatened to split into a grin.

Snape's face was deadly. "Detention for the rest of this month, Potter. Seeing as you enjoy helping Mr. Longbottom, you can spend it scrubbing all the cauldrons. Sixty points from Gryffindor."

A hiss emerged from the Gryffindor section of the room, but Neville dared not make a sound.

Snape turned to Longbottom. His voice was frosty. "Get out."

Stumbling over his robes, Neville blindly scooped up his bag and ran.

O-O

"Neville? Is that you?"

Neville lifted his head from the book. Ginny's hair was tied back in a mess of red, and it was clear she'd been outside.

"Ginny," he greeted, unable to keep the dejected note from his voice.

The redhead frowned and took a seat in the corner of the library with him. "Snape again?"

Neville groaned, tipped his head back against the shelves. "He kicked me out of the classroom, Ginny."

Ginny swore, and Neville blanched - his Gran would wash his mouth out if she ever heard _him_ say that.

"I'm so sorry, Neville," Ginny sighed. "Snape's always picking on you."

"It's okay," said Neville quietly.

"It is not," Ginny said fiercely. "Snape's a git."

She leaned against the shelves with him, and looked down at his book. "Mandrake roots?" She peered closer. "Diluted Quintaped slime base? Is this the potion from today?"

Neville flushed. "I can't fall behind more than I already do."

"But Snape's always bullying you," Ginny protested, reaching up to fix her messy ponytail. "Neville, honestly. Just cut his class for a day or two. Let yourself calm down."

"I hate this," said Neville miserably. "I hate Snape, and that he can get to me."

Ginny was quiet. She leaned her head on his shoulder in silent comfort. Neville relished it; he sunk into her comfort and shut his eyes.

Snape's eyes flashed in his mind. His palms began to sweat again. Snape slamming his hands down on his desk. Snape slapping out an insult as easily as Neville botched a potion.

He sighed. "I'm going back tomorrow, Ginny."

Ginny nodded from her position on his shoulder. "I know."

"And I'm not going to mess up," Neville concluded uncertainly.

"Even if he _is_ your boggart," Ginny teased. Neville indulged her with a smile, but his insides writhed with embarrassment.

She seemed to sense his discomfort, because she sat back up. "Hey," Ginny said softly. Neville met her eyes.

"You're really brave, you know that?" Ginny nudged his shoulder.

"Hardly."

"No," Ginny said fiercely. "Neville, you face your biggest fear every day! You rarely consider giving up, you _always_ show up to class. You're a Gryffindor if I've ever seen one."

Neville's ears felt hot. "I wouldn't say that. Look at me. I'm pathetic- "

But before he was able to finish, Ginny had punched him in the stomach. Neville toppled off his knees, gasping for breath. He placed both hands on the mahogany carpet, digging his nails into the soft material as he tried to regain his breath. " _Ginny!"_

She stared at him unapologetically as he resurfaced, breathing hard.

"If you ever," threatened Ginny, "say that about yourself again, I will wring your neck and hang you by your intestines."

Despite the gruesome threat, Neville felt the sides of his mouth rise in a reluctant smile. "You're so violent."

Ginny beamed, and Neville wondered why he'd even thought that comment would offend a girl like her who had grown up with six older brothers (and, most important, _Weasleys)_.

"Just making sure you understand," she shrugged, eyes fiercely protective. Neville had never seen Ginny anything less than fiery and explosive, and the thought made him smile again.

His stomach (besides the dull throb of pain) felt warm now. He felt less miserable. Neville looked down at the crest on his robes.

And today, Neville was back. He stood outside Transfiguration, looking down the hallway that led to the Potions room.

Neville squared his shoulders, partly to stop the quaking, took a deep breath, and headed for Snape's class.


	2. 2 Sirius

**I swear this website hates me. Every time I try to upload it clears all my formatting and messes up the document.**

 **2\. Sirius Black**

 _"I said NO, Potter!"_

Remus looked up from his book and towards Sirius, who was lounging on the opposite sofa, his feet propped against the back and his head hanging off where the knees were supposed to be. Slowly, he raised his eyebrow at the voices coming from upstairs - James must have made his way to Lily's dormitory again.

 _"Aw, come on, Evans! Wait - "_

"Ah," Sirius said dramatically, watching Remus grin upside down. "The beautiful sound of everyone getting along before Christmas break."

Peter looked up from his one-man Gobstones game, scrambling to the other side to avoid getting squirted. "But they're fighting?"

"Exactly, dear Wormy," Sirius beamed. "What's a big happy family without an old, quarreling couple?"

Lily, who had stormed downstairs with her papers, rolled up her essay and slapped Sirius on the head as she passed. "We aren't dating!"

"Oi!" Sirius let himself tumble to the ground, directing his glare at Remus. "Moony, warn me next time, would you?"

Remus mm'd in half-hearted consent, propping his feet up on the table and flipping the page.

"That's it?" Sirius demanded. "That's all I get? Is that all the attention I deserve?"

"Mm," Remus agreed, engrossed in his book.

Sirius stood. "You lot," he announced, "become even more boring each passing day."

Remus hummed once more, which prompted Sirius to lunge and grab a Gobstone from an indignant Peter. He threw the Gobstone as it squirted, and it landed right in Remus' lap.

Remus' protests were music to Sirius' ears as he strode out of the Gryffindor Common Room, wiping the leftover goo on his pants.

His wandering led him first to the kitchen, then the Great Hall (where Filch chased him out with a scrub brush), and finally to the Owlry.

James' owl greeted him with a stingy peck, to which Sirius responded with a hearty smile. He supposed he deserved it - he _had_ turned it bright purple last week.

As he inspected the rows of sleeping owls, something odd caught his eye -

The Black family owl was perched among the rest of the old families' owls, ruffling its feathers in a dignified manner.

"What are you doing here?" Sirius muttered, striding forward and checking the owl's leg band to be sure it had the Black crest on it, and then snatching his hand back when the owl bit at him. "Mother and Father expecting post from Regulus so soon when we're coming home in two days?"

"We?"

Sirius turned, feeling for the wand he held in his sleeve. He grinned, ready to snap his wrist and grab his wand if necessary. "Reggie!"

Regulus Black regarded his brother under a neat mane of hair. Unlike Sirius, who kept it in a mop the girls swooned about, he kept it neat and back, like his mother liked it. The curls were much more defined and it was clear he spent time on it. His robes were always neat and wrinkle-less.

"How're snakes treating you?" Sirius asked cheerfully, watching his brother through narrowed eyes. "I was just saying hello to my favor-OW! You bloody _owl_ \- "

"Save it, Sirius." Regulus stepped over an owl dropping in disgust and stepped in front of his brother, pulling out an envelope.

"I'm under the impression," Regulus began, and Sirius felt his insides coil in apprehension as he saw the beginnings of a smirk appear on his brother's face. "That you think you're coming home."

Sirius stared blankly, and for once he could not grasp what his brother was getting at. "It is winter break in a few days…"

Regulus stroked the leg of the owl, holding his letter in the air. "Mother and Father are expecting post from me when _I'm_ coming home in two days."

Sirius cocked his head and flicked a finger, sending Regulus' letter to the ground as the boy tried to tie it to the owl. The letter fluttered in the air and Sirius snatched it before Regulus could. "What do you mean? They haven't disowned me yet."

Regulus nodded at the letter. "Read it, then."

 _Well, if it's a prank, it's a bloody stupid one._ Sirius unsealed the roll and opened it.

 _Dear Mother and Father,_

 _It's good to write to you as well. I hope you enjoyed the tea I sent; it's a hint of what's to come for your Christmas present. And Father, I hope your business at the Ministry is going well as usual._

 _I will be coming home; strange that you had to ask. I'm sorry to say the silent treatment hasn't worked on Sirius. He hasn't even realized he isn't invited back yet, but I am sure he will soon._

 _Regards,_

 _Regulus_

Regulus plucked the letter from Sirius' numb fingers and tied it to the owl, who nipped him affectionately before flying off (not before cuffing Sirius in the head, though.) "So you see? You're not invited home."

"Even better!" Sirius announced suddenly. "I won't even need to blow the events off, then!"

His brother sneered. "You still thought you were coming home for Christmas though, didn't you, dear brother?"

Sirius hit Regulus with a Jelly-Jinx and walked off, wiggling his fingers in goodbye. By the time he left the Owlry, he was no longer smiling.

He bumped into Peter on the way to - well, he wasn't sure where he was going.

"Guess what, Padfoot?" Peter said enthusiastically. "I finally got James to leave Lily alone - we're going to go set off the new fireworks in the Slytherin Common Room later. Come on, let's go set up!"

"I don't really feel like it, Wormtail," said Sirius suddenly, looking to a suit of armor with incredible interest.

Peter stopped in his tracks, releasing his hold on Sirius' sleeve. "What do you mean? You've been dying to try Zonko's new- "

"I just - " interrupted Sirius, attempting a half-smile. "Don't really want to right now. You guys do it without me, alright?"

"Okay," said Peter uncertainly, hovering about. With a final glance, the boy scurried off to find the rest of the Marauders.

Sirius stared after him long after Peter disappeared. He swallowed, and headed to his dorms.

O-O

Sirius couldn't sleep. He laid in bed and listened to the soft snores of Remus. James and Peter had gone off to set fireworks, though they had sent Sirius a couple extra odd glances when he'd declined again.

The eldest Black rubbed his eyes and stared up at the ceiling, eyes adjusted to the dark room. Remus' snore carried across the entire dorm, bouncing off the walls. If Sirius shut his eyes, he couldn't see the curtain of his bed. And if he breathed through his mouth he couldn't smell the Hogwarts aroma from the blankets and pillows.

And if Sirius tried, really really hard, he could pretend he was eight and Regulus had snuck in from a bad dream and slept with him. Remus' soft snores became Regulus', and Sirius burrowed his head into his pillow that could be the soft locks from his little brother's hair.

The next morning, Sirius was shaken awake by an enthusiastic Remus, who informed him he would be late for the Hogwarts express.

"I'm not going," said Sirius.

All three boys paused in collecting their suitcases, and James looked up. "But, mate…" he began. "Your things are packed. What - what happened?"

Sirius shrugged roughly. "I dunno, didn't feel like seeing my family. You know what Mum's like. I'll see you three after break." He shoved past James and headed to the library, where he knew the three of them would never look.

Sirius waited until the voices of the students were long gone, and then he waited an extra hour in case. When he finally felt safe enough, Sirius woke his legs and got to his feet, ignoring the tingling.

 _Stop being such a baby_ , berated Sirius. _You've never liked Christmas. It's full of parties and stuffy robes._

Though the robes didn't feel as stuffy in his memory, and if Sirius concentrated he could've sworn his mother was proud once that he could get plenty of eligible girls to dance with him.

And though he hated himself for it, Sirius headed to the Owlry in hopes he would see the family owl holding a parcel or letter for him. Even the Owlry was empty; Sirius counted two owls sitting in separate corners. Sirius stood for several moments, then whirled around abruptly and left.

He was so angry he crashed into a suit of armor. It rattled angrily, and Sirius shoved it.

The armor clattered to the ground, so satisfyingly loud Sirius immediately grasped the sword and swung against the legs. They rolled to his feet, and prompted him to kick them away with a yell.

It wasn't long before Sirius was seeing red, and he seized a boot, flinging it as far as he could.

He took ahold of the other boot with both hands and prepared to swing it like a javelin, but a hand on his arm jerked him to a stop - and, to reality.

"- _Black_! What in the world are you doing?" Mcgonagall snapped, her grip on Sirius' arm. She raised an offended eyebrow as he spun around, wand in hand.

Realizing who he was talking to, Sirius lowered his wand immediately, breathing heavily.

"Nothing," he said quickly. "Having a bit of fun is all. Give me detention if you'd like." He'd hoped to say all this quickly and calmly, but he knew the Transfiguration teacher had caught the hint of bitterness in his throat.

"If I'm not mistaken, you should be on the train, Mr. Black." Mcgonagall pointed out, hand still on his arm. "If you planned to stay, you should've informed a prefect at the very least. Ten points - "

But Sirius' hands had gone very still, and Mcgonagall could not bring herself to carry through with the punishment as she gently pried the armor from the Gryffindor's numb fingers and watched his face turn to stone.

"Come, Mr. Black," said Mcgonagall, her tone much gentler. "To my office."

It was with dazed familiarity that Sirius made his way with his head of house to her office, though as he sat down he could not help but instinctively look at the empty chair next to him - one that usually occupied James, or Peter, and occasionally even Remus.

"Have a biscuit," insisted Mcgonagall.

Sirius stared at her blankly.

"A biscuit, Mr. Black." She gestured sternly, then pushed forward the tin.

Sirius reached forward and plucked a biscuit. With a deep breath, he stuffed it in his mouth and gave Mcgonagall a cheeky smile.

"Really, Professor, I didn't know you cared!" Sirius scooped another handful of biscuits and watched the professor's mouth tighten.

She eyed him seriously (ha!) as he sucked on another biscuit, lounging back in the chair. Sirius considered propping his feet up. "Are you alright, Mr. Black? I understand your relationship with your family is...tough, but - "

"I'm fine," said Sirius cheerfully. "May I be dismissed?"

Mcgonagall watched him very carefully as he stood. "Mr. Black - "

"Really," Sirius said sincerely, smiling with all his teeth. He hovered at the door.

After a minute, the professor sighed. "Dismissed, Mr. Black. But if there is anything you need, you may come to me."

Sirius nodded immediately, and turned to leave the door. The wreath hung at Mcgonagall's door caught his eye, and Sirius had a sudden flash to when he would fight Regulus for the opportunity to hang up the wreath at the door. "Professor?" said Sirius suddenly. He turned to Mcgonagall, words at the tip of his tongue that he couldn't quite get out. So, instead: "Should I close the door?"

His head of house eyed him once more before nodding finally, and Sirius snapped the door shut behind him with a soft smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.


	3. 3 Remus

**3\. Remus**

The Lupin household was the quiet kind, but it always smelled like home and warmth. To Remus Lupin, it usually smelled of much more than that.

It had been around four years after The Incident, but there were times when Remus was still overwhelmed by his senses. Currently, as he sat with his legs swinging off the wooden chairs, Remus could smell the mahogany in the table and the ink in his quill as he scratched out his essay.

His father was needed at work today, and so Remus had been assigned three essays rather than a tutoring day.

Chewing the end of his quill, a habit his mother despised but could never stop Remus from doing, the young werewolf flipped back on his potions textbook in concentration.

 _person person person door door door_

Remus lifted his head to stare at the door, and sure enough there was a knock. It couldn't be his mother; she'd just left to go to the grocery store. He set his quill and parchment in a drawer, and put away the textbook quickly before peaking through the hole in the door.

 _flower_

It was a young girl, around the same age as Remus. He opened the door.

She wore a crown of badly braided flowers on her head, and the smell hit Remus before he even said hello.

"Hello!" said the girl brightly, holding up a pastel green box. "I'm selling chocolate for a fundraiser, would you like to buy some?"

Remus' mouth watered - he'd always had a soft spot for chocolate - and he nodded.

The girl beamed. "Wonderful! We have almond, dark, milk, white, and caramel. Each bar is a pound."

"Er - one moment, please," said Remus softly, stepping back to get the money before he realized it was upstairs. He hesitated. "Er...Would you like to come in?"

She did, and took a seat without asking on his sofa, braids shifting. Remus found he quite liked her, mostly because her head smelled of daisies and her hands like chocolate.

Heart beating, Remus swallowed and tried to think of the last time he'd spoken to a person his age. He grabbed ten pounds his room and returned downstairs.

The girl was inspecting a picture on the living room table, and Remus blushed when he realized she was looking at him. "You're adorable," she said as soon as he entered. "You know, some babies are ugly, but you're cute."

"Um, thank you," Remus stammered, feeling a rush of heat rising to his face as she turned the photo towards him.

It was indeed a picture of Remus when he was two, sitting in the grass and laughing so hard he had fallen over sideways.

She grabbed the box of chocolates and opened it. Remus' nose twitched delightfully as he took in the scents.

"I'll take two of each, please," he said quickly, handing her the money. Very efficiently, she stacked the chocolates together.

"Color?" said the girl, all business.

"P-pardon?" Remus watched the girl pull out an assortment of ribbons. "Erm...purple."

Seriously, as if her life depended on it, the girl selected the lilac ribbon and tied the chocolates together. She set them on Remus' table and stood.

"Do you go to school here?" asked the girl curiously. "I haven't seen you around."

Remus shook his head, backing up towards the door. "I'm homeschooled."

He opened the door for her, and she stepped out, turning to smile at him. He couldn't help but beam, delighted to have such friendliness directed at him. "I'm Delia."

"Remus," said Remus, impossibly happy. It was embarrassing how much he'd rehearsed that to himself, entertaining himself with the idea that he could ever have friends.

"See you around, Remus." Delia saluted in a manner that was both playful and solemn, then bounded down the steps to the next house.

Remus watched her go, staring at her form skipping up the steps and knocking. The door opened, and she let out a sound of excitement as she embraced the girl that answered the door. Remus felt his stomach drop slightly, watching them with a quiet longing. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Remus shut the door.

O-O

His mother returned shortly after Remus finished his second essay, carrying heaps of groceries that Remus rushed to help her with. Groceries were his favorite chore - the spices his mother brought home had always been his favorite to sniff, but today Remus found them extra savory when he peeled open the film and set them in the cabinets.

"Remus?" said his mother. "Where did these come from?"

She pointed to the stack of chocolates on Remus' table as she put the eggs in the fridge, moving about the kitchen with efficiency.

"The girl on the street was selling them," said Remus, feeling his stomach sink.

Sure enough, his mother sighed and turned around. "Oh, Remus...what have we told you about answering the door?"

"I looked through the peephole," argued Remus, but without much spirit. He brightened slightly. "Her name is Delia. She's very nice"

If anything, his mother looked sadder. "Remus, my darling - " she took his hands and pulled him near. Remus relished the smell of her as she hugged him, and leaned in close. "You know you can't make friends."

"I know," Remus said to her stomach, pressing his face into it and feeling impossibly resigned. "I know."

"I want you to be happy, sweetheart, but...well, we were going to wait until your father was home, but with your transformations getting more powerful, we may need to move again." She stroked his head to soften the blow, but Remus jerked back to look up at her.

"But - but why?" he protested feebly. "We just _got_ here."

She sighed and reached for the loaf of bread to put away. "You smashed Ms. Caper's window when you broke ours and threw the frame at her house, Remus. We could hardly blame that on our imaginary dog."

"I can control it," whispered Remus. "I swear. I'm trying, Mum."

"Oh, I know, sweetheart." Her hands were back around him, smoothing his hair back. "I know you are, Remus. It's not your fault."

"I want to stay," whispered Remus. And he did, as he had wanted to for almost every neighborhood they had moved to.

The Lupins lived very close to the primary school, and if Remus climbed up to the attic he could see the playground from his home. He'd taken to sitting there for hours, waiting for the children to be let out to their parents. Remus would watch them run around and shove each other on the swings until the very last child had left the park with their mummies and daddies.

It wasn't nearly as good as being able to play with them, but for Remus, who had never been given the chance to do so, it seemed a very close second.

Tonight was a full moon, and Remus was determined to prove to his parents that he could control the wolf - that he could curb it enough so that they could, at the very least, stay here.

Ms. Caper hadn't seemed horribly suspicious, simply confused at how a young boy had managed to launch a broken window frame all the way to her window with so much strength it shattered.

Remus took a fresh sheet of parchment and his Charms textbook and began to draft his final essay.

By the time he finished, his mother was cooking his favorite steak. Remus could hardly bring himself to write the conclusion - the smell of pepper, salt, and red meat was so strong Remus felt the urge to turn and eat the meat raw.

 _Stop it,_ Remus scolded himself. How was he to prove he could control himself if he couldn't even do so as a human?

With agonizing discipline for a werewolf so close to the full moon, the eight year old turned back and picked up his quill. The conclusion was done before dinner, and by the time his father came home Remus was already feeling the aching in his bones increase.

He inhaled his steak, barely noticing his parents exchange a look. But Remus couldn't help himself - he was always fighting the wolf, and it was strongest just before transformation. So he let it devour the steak piece by piece, and sat back to wipe his mouth as his parents finished at a much slower pace.

Much too soon, the sky began to darken. His mother embraced him tightly before stepping back. She could never watch.

Gesturing silently, Remus' father led Remus upstairs to the attic. Remus' senses tingled as he passed through the door, dense with locks. His father had strengthened the silencing spells.

"Come here, Remus," said his father softly. Obediently, Remus took his place in the corner of the room and held out his hands as his father clipped the chains around his wrists. They had never held, but his parents told him it took him three hours to tear them off, which bought him time.

Something was off. Remus' spine shivered, and he straightened, eyes twitching. "Father…"

Lyall Lupin looked up in alarm as his son's eyes took on a golden sheen. He scrambled for his watch, puzzled and panicked, and stepped back as Remus fought back a moan. "It's much too early for transformation...you have at least ten minutes…"

But calculations or not, the evidence was right in front of them: Remus' transformations were early tonight. Afraid, Remus fought to keep control, watching with barely-disguised panic as his father rushed to finish the preparations. Whipping his wand out, Remus' father applied an extra sticking charm to both the chains connected to the walls and the chains on Remus' hands. He waved his wand around the room to strengthen the wards once, before he backed away to the door as Remus dropped to his knees.

 _Wait, wait, wait._ Remus protested frantically, hands clenching as he fought the transformation. He needed a little more time. The locks outside were clicking, one by one, and he knew there were at least five left.

A howl tore out from him, involuntary and wild. Remus spared a glance at the window - a soft, full moon that shifted its light through the window and onto the floor. It was still too soon for a transformation.

Remus whimpered as the bones in his body began to shift, and the last thing he remembered before blacking out was seeing his fingernails lengthen into claws.

O-O

Everything hurt. Much, _much_ more than usual.

Remus groaned - or at least, he tried to. It came out as a guttural sound, deep in his throat, and he found that there were bandages around his throat. He wiggled his fingers and found that he was on his bed - bandaged nearly everywhere.

Something gentle smoothed back his hair, and Remus cracked open an eye. It was his father, watching him from above. Struggling to sit up, Remus resigned himself to merely lifting his head.

He opened his mouth, shut it, swallowed, and tried again. "Wh-what ha...ppened?"

The two words sliced across his neck like a blade, and Remus dropped his head back onto the bed, eyes squeezed shut as he fought the pain.

A moment later, the pain passed, and his father spoke. "Your transformation was early, Remus."

But that wasn't all; Remus cracked open an eye at his father's hesitance, squinting harshly. "...And?"

His mother had entered, carrying a tray of watery soup. She set it on the desk next to Remus and knelt beside him, taking his hand.

"You tore through the chains in an hour," she whispered, stroking his hand in circular motions. "Remus...honey...you broke down the silencing spells faster than we could put them up. We tried, but - "

He'd howled. Remus shut his eyes. "Maybe we can say...it was the dog..."

But both his parents were shaking their heads before he even finished. "We move next Thursday," said his father gently.

His mother stood. "We're sorry, darling…"

"Don't be," said Remus hoarsely, looking up at the ceiling, heart sinking to his stomach. It was never his parents' faults.

"My strong boy," hummed Remus' mum, wiping her eyes and offering him a small smile. But the compliment glanced off Remus like light off a mirror, and the boy didn't do so much as twitch.

Sadly, his mother stood and combed her fingers through his hair.

Remus turned away from them, and didn't reopen his eyes until they left the room.

The next few days consisted of constant sleep. Remus' broken bones mended overnight with their last supply of Skele-Gro. The time he spent awake he spent staring into space.

Tuesday afternoon, Remus could move his legs with relatively little pain. His mother was downstairs, making more soup for him. Remus stared up at the ceiling cracks, lines he'd memorized since they first moved here.

With agonizing slowness, the small boy sat up. Wincing, Remus swung his legs around the bed and stood with the help of the desk beside him.

Limping and using the wall, Remus made his way out of his room, grateful for the silence the carpeted floors provided. He had to make several stops to catch his breath from the pain, but finally he reached the attic.

The locks had been taken down, and so had the chains in the corner. Remus' eyes scanned the room once, before he stepped in.

At last, he stood in front of the window and slowly let go of the window ledge.

He could see Delia playing in the park with her friends. Next to her bookbag lay the box of chocolates she was still selling.

He stood (with the ledge after a while) for what could have been minutes or hours, but by the time Remus tore his eyes away he had memorized the exact blueprint of the playground. The boy who only ever played on the swings. The girl who used pebbles to play hopscotch with her little brother. Delia, who sat on the end of the slide with her box of chocolates.

Steadily, Remus limped back to his room to pack.


End file.
